Anchor Me
by KaeBird13
Summary: Merlin can't remember when he realized he would willingly sacrifice his life to protect Arthur. No slash, written in Merlin's POV.


At some point at time, I think we all realize that we would give our lives for someone. It doesn't really matter who that someone is, it could be a friend, a sibling, a parent, a spouse. All that really matters is that someone exists. Even the more selfish of us all have someone we cherish more than anything.

It's not a decision either. Sometimes it can be, but most of the time it's not. You get close to somebody and overtime you just _know_. You know without a doubt that if a dangerous situation arose, you wouldn't even have to think about it. You would just do. Save them, whatever it takes, no matter what.

Do I have someone like that? Yeah, I do.

Like most people, I don't know when it happened for me. I can't recall the exact time and place when it came to me that I would willing sacrifice my life for this person. All I knew was that I had to protect him. His life was the one that mattered, not mine. I would die a thousand deaths just to make sure he never had to even once.

This person was the prince of all prats. Arrogant, selfish, and rude, that's what he was. He wore his pride like an expensive cloak, always twirling about in it even though it was mostly just for show. Even though he had many flaws-believe me, I've experienced them all firsthand-he had even more king-like qualities that made up for them. He was my best friend, someone I would even dare to call my brother.

At first we hated each other. Well maybe not hate, loathed. We loathed each other. I saw him as a foolish prince with an inflated head, and he saw me as a rude peasant with a tongue sharper than my brain. Looking back on it, it's hard to believe we ever became friends. When I stopped looking at him as someone I needed to stick around to fulfill my so called 'destiny', and started seeing him as the future king of Albion who deserves my loyalty is lost on me. But I can never go back, I will never go back.

I wasn't thinking about what it would do to me as I held the chalice between my trembling fingers. I never even thought about the fact that I would die if I drank the liquid. All I knew was that the goblet was poisoned and Arthur was going to drink it. I couldn't let that happen. I had to protect Arthur, I _needed_ to protect him.

Arthur protested, he blamed my outburst on my need to get attention. If I wasn't so worried about him possibly dying, I would be slightly warmed and offended. Maybe, just maybe, Arthur did care about me. But only in the sense that he didn't want to see me dead. But at the same time, I wasn't vying for attention. I could find plenty of other ways to do that without accusing the visiting king of trying to kill the Prince of Camelot.

When I drank it, I was slightly confused. Nothing happened, nothing at all. Had I been lied to? Was this some kind of trick to have me make a fool out of myself in front of the entire court? I saw Arthur's face relax into relief. But as soon as that relief came, it quickly morphed into annoyance._ We will be having a talk about this later, Merlin._ His eyes told me._ A nice long, long talk._

And that's when the burning started. At first only my chest was on fire, but then it started to spread down to my lungs. I coughed, feeling the air catch in my throat. I was drowning and burning at the same time. It was hot, so, so hot. Fire licked my insides, it's wicked tongue scorching everything. I couldn't breath and I was falling. Falling downwards into black.

At first the black was comforting. But the heat never went away. I thrashed around, trying to break free, but I couldn't move. The heat only got worse until it felt like the devil himself was cradling me in his palms of lava. I wanted to scream, to plead to whoever was listening to make it stop. Pain bloomed like thorny roses dripping with blood, digging into my sides and chest. I wanted to let go, to drift off, but something anchored me down.

Arthur. Arthur was in danger.

I had to save him.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Gaius holding Gwen. I joked because the agony was disappearing, draining out of my body like I had been splashed with cold water. I welcomed the chill, because it meant I was no longer burning. Anything was better than burning.

Gaius had sat me down afterward, with that serious look on his face. He instructed me, no, _demanded_ that I never do anything like that again. It wasn't good for his old heart. I half smiled and nodded, but didn't say anything. After all, I couldn't make a promise that I had no intention of keeping.

That was the first time I had almost died in the place of Arthur. But it wasn't the last. Arthur was a prince, someone was always trying to kill him. Not even my illegal magic could protect him indefinitely. And when that time came when my magic failed to save him, I was always prepared to save him anyway possible. Because it wasn't just my destiny to protect Arthur. Destiny was what had started it, it was the thing that gave me the push, but it wasn't the thing that kept me going. Arthur was my friend.

And there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for my friends. Keeping them safe was my purpose, and seeing them happy was my payment.

And maybe that's why I kept doing it, even though it meant someday I was probably going to get myself killed. But I was okay with that. As long as I was the only one hurt, the only one dying, then I was happy.

It was bandits this time. Why does it always have to be those _stupid_ raiders? I swear they had a sixth sense, the voice of doom whispering in their ears the right times to attack. The times when we were vulnerable, less prepared.

We were hunting. Arthur was determined to kill a stag this time, a nice big fat one that would feed the palace for days. Food was running short this time of year, so even though I hated hunting, I did my best to keep my clumsiness to a minimum. It worked, sort of. I thought I did an exceptional job at not tripping, but Arthur was harder to please.

Three knights accompanied us. Just Arthur, me, and the three knights. I didn't even know their names, I should have learned them. I should have brought more. You can't always see the future, but darn it, I had magic. Why _couldn't_ I see the future? Why?

Just, why?

Arthur had heard a rustle in the bushes and was busy creeping forward to check it out. Part of me hoped it was food, that part being my stomach, but the other part screamed at the animal to run away. I hate death, even though I've killed myself. I would never have to kill if I didn't have to protect Arthur. But I would never stop protecting Arthur.

Arthur apparently thought I would scare the beast away if I came with him, so he motioned for me to stay put. I probably would-scare the animal away, that is-so I just rolled my eyes and shouldered the heavy bag. The bag was filled with Arthur's stuff, not mine, but I didn't complain. Not this time around anyway.

A sound caught my attention, a small hissing noise so tiny I thought I had imagined it. Years have taught me, however, never to ignore even the smallest of sounds. It could get Arthur injured. And so I cautiously crept forward, hoping that my hyperactive brain was hearing noises where they shouldn't be.

I saw steel, the silver of a drawn blade. And three dead knights surrounded by an army of bandits.

I should have learned the knights' names.

A cry ready on my lips, I turned around only to see Arthur fighting his own battle. The bandits had outnumbered us eighteen to two. The odds were slim, but I would never give up, not until I saw that Arthur would be safe.

Because that's all that mattered.

I met Arthur's eyes before my own set of bandits attacked me. That was the last time I saw him for a long time. I used my magic to defend myself, because that was the only weapon I had. I could grab a sword from one of the fallen bandits, or one of the three knights, but I chose not to. I wielded a sword just as well as Arthur wielded a scrub brush. I could only hope that Arthur could not see me, but I could not even see him.

Until I had defeated almost all of the bandits attacking me.

It was a grunt, only a small sound, but I heard it nonetheless. I turned, panic seizing my limbs and taking control of my brain. Arthur was kneeling on one knee, one hand clutching a bloody leg and the other holding his sword up high as a bandit pounded mercilessly against it. Metal clanged, the sharp vibration stinging my ears. Arthur was in danger.

My eyes flashed gold, the color of purity and value. It was the color of warmth and the promise of better days. Not the color of a monster. Maybe someday, somehow, Arthur would realize that.

A tree branch snapped and fell, striking the head of the bandit attacking Arthur. The mercenary was knocked cold, and Arthur was safe.

I felt something break. Looking down, I could see the point of a sword sticking out of my middle. Who knew that the sound of skin ripping sounded like that?

That's when the pain came. Pure, unbearable agony. Redness clouded my vision as I felt something come up my throat. I coughed slightly, trying to get it out. Blood, it was blood. The crimson liquid dribbled down my chin. Pain hummed throughout my limbs and darkness caressed my mind. I wanted to give into it, but I knew if I did, I would never wake up again.

But that was fine, wasn't it? Just as long as Arthur was safe.

I didn't think I could feel anymore pain, and then the bandit tore the sword out of me. I choked, but no sound escaped my mouth. I had no energy left to scream, even though I wanted to. I wanted to scream my agony to the sky, beg it to make the pain stop.

But it didn't stop and the bandit had his foot on my back, pushing me down a hill. Each thump brought a new wave of pain, a new plea to let go. To make it all end. I don't even think Arthur noticed my fall.

The sounds of battle raged above me. I hoped Arthur would win. He couldn't be hurt like me. I felt my shirt dampen rapidly as well as my pants. I think it was my own blood pooling around me as I struggled to pull in breaths through the open wound. How much blood could a person lose before they've lost too much? I don't know, but Gaius would. Would I ever see Gaius again? I was dying, alone. I hate being alone, more than anything. I loved the comfort other people provided. Was it too much to wish to die with someone holding my hand?

It began to rain.

_Why are you crying?_ I asked the sky. The sky was mourning, its fat tears creating a stream against my cheek. Maybe the sky was lonely too. We could be lonely together, which made us not really lonely at all.

The rain washed away the blood from my chin. Maybe the sky wasn't crying at all, maybe it was celebrating. The rain wasn't sad, it was happy. The clouds may be dark, but that's just the way the clouds were. Rain washed away mistakes and pain. They cleaned the canvas so that it could be drawn on again. Rain brought renewal with it, not ending. The sky wasn't mourning my passing, but telling me not to give up. Because those who lost the war were the ones who gave up before the fight finished. My fight was not finished, Arthur was not yet king.

I couldn't give up, not just yet.

There was a sharp cry and then all was silent. What that Arthur? Had I failed?

And then the blond prince was at my side. I dimly heard his voice as he tightly gripped my hand. He was telling me the same thing that the rain had. Don't give up, your time's not over yet. The battle might have been won, but the war was far from over. If you give up now, you'll never see the bright end. Wasn't that what I wanted from the beginning? To see the day when magic was no longer banned and Arthur would see me for who I really was? I wanted to see the day where I no longer had to hide to protect myself, the day where I no longer had to fear for my life just because I had been born.

And besides, if I wasn't there, who would protect Arthur?

I had a war to win, and I would see that war to its end.

The journey back to Camelot had been a pain-filled haze and I don't remember much of it. Or all of it, rather. All I can recall was that there had been a lot of yelling and sobbing when Arthur ran into the castle courtyard, carrying me into his arms. They thought I was going to die. _Don't worry._ I wanted to tell them. _I'm not going to give up, not as long as there's breath in my body._

Gwen's hands were warm, but Gaius's were cold. He must have stayed up waiting for us instead of going to bed. Gaius worried too much, but perhaps his worries were justified. I would have to be better so that I could take off some of the stress that weighed his old shoulders down.

Arthur was there too. I heard him once or twice through my pounding ears. He was worried that I had lost too much blood. I guess I didn't look that great when he found me. After what felt like days, it was all over and I was told I could rest. My body cried in relief as my eyes drifted close and I let myself go into the darkness that had called me so restlessly.

Except this time I knew that I would wake up again.

Because who would take care of the prat if I was gone?

* * *

**A/N: I wanted to try something new. Dialogue is more my thing, while this inner thought stuff is not. I wrote this just to prove that I could. What do you guys think? Good, not good?**

**This little story was inspired by a poem I read. I'd figured I'd post the poem on here anyway even though I have no idea who wrote it.**

Anchor Me

_Anchor me in reality_

_Safe from drifting into insanity_

_The sea is frothing and wild_

_Please stay next to me, child_

_I'll keep you safe, so sleep_

_Holding my hand while you count sheep_

_The storms rages on_

_In my arms is where you belong_

_Child, do not slip_

_In the harbor is your ship_

_The dangers are kept at bay_

_As we wait for that golden ray_

_Look, child, the sun has come out_

_It wants to hear you play and shout_

_The thunder has stopped, the clouds are no more_

_So different from the tempest before_

_-Anonymous _


End file.
